


One Night Only

by killingsaray



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, One Night Stand AU, Public Sex, Seduction, Tairobi, dance floors are the new bedrooms, does this count as a heist since Tokyo stole Nairobi’s heart, teacher AU... kinda, utter fucking FILTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 13:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: “What’s your name?”She sighs. “I don’t know.”“You don’t know your name?”“I don’t know if that’s who I want to be tonight.”ORThe one where Tokyo is more than meets the eye.
Relationships: Nairobi | Ágata Jiménez & Tokyo | Silene Oliveira
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	One Night Only

**Author's Note:**

> it’s here bitches. enjoy. from the au_bots_ideas twitter’s prompt: one night stand AU where character b turns out to be character a’s kid’s teacher.

* * *

_“I think we might be outlaws._

_I think we might be in love.”_

_-David Lambert, ‘Outlaws’_

* * *

_Sunday_

_“Another round, ladies?”_

Ágata is in, but the other women are not. 

Everyone except for Julia. She, at the very least, appreciates how hard it is to find a good babysitter on a Saturday night. Well, that and a good tequila.

They’re supposed to be celebrating Mónica’s bachelorette party. She’s to marry her total opposite, Daniel in one week’s time, and she’s more than ready. They’ve been putting it off for ages for god only knows what reason. They’ve already got a son together.

It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that even though Mónica is finished celebrating, Ágata is not. She and Julia walk the other women to their cars, each parked strategically in front of a street light, and then decide on a nightclub about a block away. The bass from the lively music can be heard down the road and every time the door opens, laughter and neon lights pour out into the night. With a line wrapped around the door, it looks like the type of place where they can let their hair down and have a good time. 

They make their way down the street, and bypass the line of teenyboppers ready to flash their fake IDs. They’re immediately let in by one of the bouncers after taking one look at both of them and it’s not long before Julia and Ágata are at the bar, ordering a round of shots. 

Someone catches Julia’s attention after the second round of drinks. He’s taller than her and his build screams gym rat. And apparently that’s Julia’s type. He asks her to dance and they make a plan to text one another if they are going to leave with someone. Then she’s off. 

Ágata doesn’t mind, actually. She finds that she’s able to watch people better without having to make conversation with Julia. And what she sees is… well, a bit disappointing. 

So, she drinks more until even the ugly people begin to look appealing. 

She dances with a few strangers. She dances by herself. She _feels_ her body relaxing with each song and every drink. Paces herself just perfectly so that she’s drunk, but not sloppy. She can function and is aware of her surroundings, but she’s still here for a good fucking time. 

As a bartender is slipping her a glass of cold club soda that she finds it: her good fucking time. 

A mysterious woman in a dark dress that hugs her body like a back road. Dancing alone in the crowd. Eyes closed. Hands in the air. Body moving in perfect rhythm to the house song. 

She’s pretty.

Gorgeous, really.

And she knows it. 

The pixie-haired vixen is completely aware that she’s stolen the attention of every man in the club, and a few women as well. 

Ágata isn’t sold. Some of the most women she’s met are confident in their appearance but can’t hold a conversation to save their goddamn lives. 

Ágata leans back against the bar, both elbows resting on the resin countertop. She tilts her head slightly and watches. 

The song ends by linking itself into the undertones of another and the colors of the lights change. Her skin is suddenly dipped in a forbidden red and deep blue. Her eyes flicker open and they immediately capture Ágata’s. 

Ágata doesn’t stop staring. It’s what she wants after all: to be seen, but not touched. So, this is Ágata’s way of saying, “you’re seen. We see you.”

The woman smiles and makes her way to the bar, sidling up next to Ágata while simultaneously ignoring her. She’s offered the barkeep’s services immediately because of course she is. 

“What can I get you, _guapa_?” He asks. 

“I’ll have what she’s having,” the pixie replies, nodding her head towards Ágata. 

“Club soda?”

Her nose scrunches in the cutest possible way and shakes her head. “Here I thought you looked like someone fun.”

Ágata smirks. 

“I do, but I’m bored now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I haven’t met anyone _fun_ yet.”

The woman pulls herself up onto a bar chair vacated by a gentleman who probably thought he had a chance with her until he realizes she’s focused on Ágata. 

“We’ll have two Jack and Cokes,” she orders. 

That’s what Ágata and Julia had been drinking all night. 

_How did she know?_

Ágata decides that she likes this woman. “What’s your name?”

She sighs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your name?”

“I don’t know if that’s who I want to be tonight.”

 _Okay_ , Ágata thinks, _I’ll bite_.

Ágata knocks back the remainder of her drink. “Who do you want to be tonight?”

The woman pretends to think. “A bank robber maybe. A brilliant, badass one who rides a motorcycle.”

“And what’s your name?”

She thinks again for a while longer. “Tokyo. My team goes by code names. To avoid the cops, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Ágata agrees, as if it’s the most obvious answer. “And your team… are they looking for new members? A controls manager, perhaps?”

“You know,” Tokyo says, turning to face her, “come to think of it, we are. Do you know one?”

“I know the best one.”

“Hm. I’ll be the judge of that.” Tokyo finishes her drink. “So, what should I call you?”

Well, if Tokyo can be someone else tonight, then so can Ágata. “Nairobi.”

Tokyo smiles. Nairobi is confident. Has already assumed she will make it on Tokyo’s hypothetical heist team. Confidence is important to Tokyo. She encourages it within her real job everyday.

“Do you want to dance?” She asks Nairobi.

“Lead the way.”

The dance floor is packed. Beyond crowded. Bodies were pressed together. Neon, strobe lights pulsate to the beat of the music. Flashing red, yellow and green on the perspiring bodies that somehow find enough room to move to the salsa music. 

They dance for what seems like forever. To an abundance of different songs. And every time, Tokyo finds her body pulled close even to the more uptempo songs. She likes it. 

A lot. 

And when Nairobi’s hands aren’t on her body, Tokyo finds a way to twirl until her ass is poking into Nairobi’s center. Or she allows herself to be pushed by the rowdy crowd until she’s pressed against Nairobi again. The tension is so thick that Nairobi is sure that everyone else can feel it, but if they do, they don’t show it. No one else is paying them any attention, and she loves it. 

They both know what they’re doing. Playing the wicked games that two single people play before the inevitable happens. 

_And fuck, does it happen._

A salsa tune proves to Nairobi that Tokyo is more than meets the eye. She knows her way around a salsa dance and quite literally dances circles around Nairobi. She takes hold of Nairobi’s hand and Nairobi spins her around. Let’s her whirl away. 

She twirls back towards Nairobi and their fronts slam together. Nairobi lifts Tokyo’s leg and pulls her close on the final note of the salsa tune. The song changes. And so does the energy between them.

Tokyo’s hands slide up. Nairobi’s hands glide down until fingers ghost against damp lace. Tokyo exhales a shaky breath that Nairobi feels against her own lips. Dark eyes search even darker ones before Tokyo nods her head.

It’s permission.

So, Nairobi uses two fingers to slip her thong to the side. They glide down slick heat. Back up. 

And the pair never lose eye contact. Nairobi likes to see the pleasure on a woman’s face. And Tokyo likes to see the burning passion. 

Nairobi’s middle finger slips down to Tokyo’s entrance and is immediately suctioned in by her greedy body. Even over the pounding bass and screaming crowd, Nairobi can hear the sigh of relief just before their lips come crashing together in a kiss that stops time. 

Despite the people surrounding them, it feels as if it’s just them, pressed together on the dance floor of a club with Nairobi slipping her ring finger inside of Tokyo now. 

Tokyo’s mouth moves against her and Nairobi accepts her tongue when she offers it. She moves her fingers in and out of Tokyo at the same pace as their tongues meet. Her thumb presses against Tokyo’s clit and it rubs side to side. Up and down. Round and round. All while her fingers curl up with every inner stroke. 

The vibrations of the club’s speaker system are nothing compared to Tokyo’s muffled moans that Nairobi swallows. They reverberate in her chest and send sound waves of pleasure throughout her entire body. She wants to get Tokyo completely naked. Worship her body for the next few hours. Use her body to get rid of all of the pent up tension her body has been saving for the last year. 

Fuck it’s been it’s been so long. 

Tokyo can’t take it. Nairobi’s long fingers are entirely too skilled at what they do. Her mouth drops to Nairobi’s neck and she sucks on the spot just below her ear. It does something to Nairobi and the woman lets out a small growl of approval. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” She tells Nairobi who redoubles her efforts. Her legs are going to give out at any moment. Nairobi tightens her grip on the thigh against her waist. Adds a third finger. And then the unexpected happens. 

The cross shifts again and the guy beside them pushes against Nairobi’s arm, effectively pushing her fingers as deep inside of Tokyo as they can go. 

And Tokyo chants, “Oh fuck. I’m coming!” in Nairobi’s ear. Nairobi encourages her through it, pushing against the constriction of Tokyo’s inner muscles to fuck her through it. 

Tokyo drops her leg from Nairobi’s waist and pulls Nairobi’s hand away from her cunt. 

Then, one by one, she sucks herself off of Nairobi’s fingers. 

While gazing into Nairobi’s eyes. 

When she’s done and Nairobi has processed what she’s just seen, she leans forward and asks, “Do you want to get out of here?”

* * *

That’s pretty much how they ended up in the backseat of Nairobi’s rocking car with the windows fogged. They’d gone from Tokyo being bent over the center console with Nairobi’s tongue in her ass to Tokyo riding Nairobi’s fingers in the center of the back seats. Then Tokyo had slipped one leg over Nairobi’s and ground her wet pussy against Nairobi’s until they came together. 

And now…

Well now Tokyo is doing what she likes to call “clean up time”. Uses that phrase in her normal job as well.

Except this is different. 

She is on her knees on the floor of the backseat with her mouth permanently attached to Nairobi’s pussy and fingers knuckle deep. The woman’s husky moans and rolling hips only serve to egg Tokyo on. 

“Fuck, right there!” She cries out when Tokyo twists her wrist and wiggles her fingers against Nairobi’s g-spot while sucking softly on her clit. 

So, Tokyo stays _right there_. 

Keeps giving Nairobi what she wants. What her body needs. 

And when she comes, she can’t help the way her thighs clamp around Tokyo’s head. Or the way one hand slams against the roof of the car and other against the window, leaving a condensating handprint in its wake. 

As Nairobi catches her breath, Tokyo is straddling her once more in the backseat. Kissing her neck and then her lips. 

That’s when they notice it. 

The sun is beginning to rise. 

“Fuck, what time is it?” Nairobi asks. 

She holds Tokyo close to her so she doesn’t fall as she leans forward and finds her phone where it fell on the floor. 

“Shit! I gotta go!”

Tokyo takes the hint. Shimmies back into her dress as Nairobi tugs on her own shirt and pants. 

“A+ from your new quality control manager,” Nairobi says once they’ve finished re-dressing. She grabs Tokyo’s chin and pulls her in for another kiss. 

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Nairobi.”

And with that, she exits the car and Nairobi climbs into the front seat to head home. 

* * *

_Monday_

“ _Buenos días, mi clase nueva_!”

The small crowd of nine kids barely react. So, she tries again. “I can't hear you! _Buenos días, mi clase nueva_!” She cups one hand around her ear and uses the other to signal for them to greet her back. It works and her class responds with a collective good morning. Silene’s smile brightens. 

“That’s more like it! I’m Miss Silene and I'm so excited to get to know each and every one of your smiling faces! Let’s start our day by taking attendance. When I call your names, I want to hear your loudest “here I am!” because your voices are _so_ important to me, _vale_?”

She hears a few cheers of ‘yeah!’ and head nods to match. 

“Excellent,” Silene grabs her attendance sheet off of her desk. “Okay, Alex?”

“Here I am!” Little Alex cries. 

“Awesome to see you Alex! Belem?”

Another little voice shouts enthusiastically.

“Cincinnati?” Strange name, but Silene has heard more outrageous ones. He shouts that he’s there and Silene keeps going down the list. 

“Ibiza?” 

The classroom is quiet. 

“Is Ibiza here?” Silene asks. 

“She’s here! Sorry. We had a late morn—no way.”

Silene drops the sheet of paper in her hand. Rushing little Ibiza into the classroom was none other than Nairobi, the woman who she let fuck her on the dance floor of the club and then again in the backseat of her car not even a full eight hours ago. 

“ _You’re_ my kid’s teacher?” Nairobi asks in disbelief.

“Silene,” the shorter woman replies. “And you are?”

 _Besides the best fuck I’ve had in ages,_ Silene thinks. 

“Ágata,” Nairobi says. She feels a tug at her harem pants. She looks down at her daughter who is hiding behind her leg. So that’s why Nairobi had to leave so suddenly. Silene follows her gaze to the little one and bends down until she’s on her knees. Nairobi flashes back to Silene in the same position on the floor of her SUV hours ago just before she’d lowered her mouth onto Nairobi’s cunt. 

“ _Hola_ , _mi amor_ . _Soy_ Miss Silene. Would you like to be my extra special helper today?”

Ibiza shrinks a little further into her mother’s pant leg but nods shyly all the same. 

Silene smiles warmly at Ibiza and the shy _gitanita_ tries hard, but she can’t stop from smiling back at her new teacher. 

The entire exchange takes less than two minutes, but in that time, Ágata makes two assessments about Silene. 

The first is that the petite brunette is so fucking charming. She’d quite literally charmed the pants off of Ágata and now she is turning her daughter into a social butterfly in less than five minutes. 

The second thing Ágata realizes is that she likes Silene. A lot. Probably too much for someone who she never thought she’d see again. 

In short, Ágata is fucked. And she knows it. 

She crouches low and takes both of Ibiza’s hands in her own. “Mama will be back to pick you up later, yeah?”

Ibiza nods and now Ágata is the hesitant one. 

Silene can tell. She places a reassuring hand on Ágata’s. A spark flickers and they both pull their hands away, each trying desperately to brush it off as static shock.

But they both know better.

Silene clears her throat. “I’ll take good care of her,” she promises Ágata.

The taller brunette smiles softly and nods once. She kisses her daughter’s cheeks and promises that they’ll be reunited soon.

And when she walks out of the classroom, she can feel Silene’s eyes on her.

Maybe what they shared doesn’t have to be for one night only.


End file.
